The Ghost of You
by Mistress of Crucio
Summary: True love never dies, even if that love is unrequited. Lucretia Black had the misfortune of losing her heart to the Dark Lord when she was just a girl; this is that story. Mentions. character death, suicide attempt. No gore.
1. Prologue

[Authors Note: Rewritten slightly and re-posted. Chapter 1 coming shortly. Please R&R!]

Prologue

At the end of the world,  
>Or the last thing I see,<br>You are never coming home,  
>Never coming home...<p>

The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance

_All Hallow's Eve, 1992_

_She was ready to go._

_The only thing that had stopped Lucretia from giving up years ago was the promise he had made to her. She'd held his words close to her heart, her very own well kept secret; the last thing shared between them, and had never dared whisper it to another soul. They would have called her crazy, and maybe she was; holding onto the perpetually thinning shred of hope that a dead man, a man who had died eleven years ago tonight, would return to her. Perhaps he was mistaken, after all. Perhaps he had not achieved what he had set out to do all those years ago. She couldn't understand it. Tom was never wrong, not about anything that she could recall, and he was always so sure that his mortality was a thing of the past, that he would never cease to breathe, never cease to live, never give himself over to the human weakness that was death. Never break her heart by leaving her that way, and yet he had._

_She was tired now. Tired of crying, tired of the emptiness in her heart and the ache her body felt when she thought of him. Tired of being forced by fate to go on without him. Her entire life she had been forced to do one thing or another; forced into a marriage she hadn't wanted, forced away from the man she loved because he didn't meet her father's standard of wealth, forced to raise children who lived and breathed to disappoint her and go against everything she had stood up and in her own way, had fought for. Her entire life, everything was based around decisions someone else had made for her because she was a woman, and thereby controllable. Everything in her life save for one thing, and even that, in the end, had been taken from her as well. But no more. Today was finally the day that she said 'enough', and decided, on her own, to come here tonight, to a familiar and beloved place, and say her final farewell to the world._

_Sad eyes focused on the murky water that rippled slightly before her, tears clinging to her lashes and glistening like tiny diamonds in the light of the setting sun. This had become a ritual for her, every year on this night, returning to the lake where the two of them had passed many quiet hours wrapped in each others arms during their school years, the place where he had promised he would meet her when his business that night was done. The trek from the village to the lake had become more and more arduous over the years, Lucretia not being the young woman that she had been so long ago; her bones ached with age as she shifted her weight from one side of her back to the other, hoping to relieve some of the pressure there. No, she was nothing like she had been the first time she'd sat by the lake with Tom Riddle, a girl, young and free, running ahead and teasing the serious boy with her laughter as they made the trek together. That had been the first of many times that they would meet in this spot, and every tree that dotted the landscape held a fond memory of their time spent there. Recent memories, though, were more difficult for her. She now sat beneath the tree alone when she came, and the only laughter that could be heard now came from the school that loomed eerily in the distance. That Halloween in 1981, she had waited for him, well into the next day, watching the morning sun cast its first rays on the school, and the dark cluster of owls returning to their perches for their daily slumber. When he didn't come, she had known, but she couldn't find the strength in her body to leave her post, hoping with the heart of a foolish woman that he had simply been delayed, or even that he had forgotten or dismissed his promise to meet her. Even that would have been preferable to the reality she still had yet to accept._

_The news had traveled fast. By the time she finally made it home, her husband and daughter were already engrossed in conversation over coffee, and celebrating the news of the death of the terrible You-Know-Who, while they spoke in tribute to the heroes who had sacrificed their lives to take the murderous man down for good. It was vengeance, Molly had said, for the deaths of her brothers on his command. Revenge for the deaths of people she had known and loved, and for the innocents who had nothing to do with the war in any form. It was all Lucretia could do to remain planted calmly in the spot next to the stove, all she could do to remain in one spot and not launch herself at the daughter who despite her mother's seeming indifference to the matter, continued to talk. And where have you been, Mum?', the question had been waved off with a shaky hand and a shake of her head as she made her way to her sewing room, excusing herself from their happy little gathering by claiming a headache. She wanted to scream, to release her anguish in the form of a yell that could be heard around Britain, she wanted to take out her anger on the walls and her family, and anyone who happened to smile at her that day, but she couldn't muster up the strength to do anything more than to allow her weakened legs to finally collapse beneath her, and cry until she felt no more. The world had breathed a sigh of relief when the Dark Lord had fallen, but Lucretia Prewett only wished she could breathe her last._

_There was one photo, black and white and wrinkled, and by now so old that the figures captured in time rarely moved anymore. Every now and again though when she removed the picture from where she kept it hidden, Tom would give one of his rare smiles to her and grip the waist of the girl in the photo to pull her a little closer. Sometimes, she would recall the feel of those hands on her, and at times, the day that photo had been taken. Both of them so young, so full of life, and both with the world waiting at their feet. He had dreamed of taking over that world, and ruling over them all, while she, so hopelessly devoted to him, had dreamed of giving her world to him and becoming his wife. But he never wanted that. Not from her, and not from anyone else for that matter. She knew how little she had meant to him, but it was her love for him that kept Lucretia bound to Lord Voldemort, and gave her the determination not to give up on him, for as long as he still reached out to her, she would go, always, and cling to him as though their romance were not a one sided affair._

_That was all in the past now, a past that was better not brought up, neither by words nor by thoughts nor tears. But she was still ready to go, to be with him again and in her own heaven, to have the life they had been denied here. Folding the photo back into a small square and tucking it back against her heart, she rose slowly from her spot, robes billowing gently behind her in the breeze as she walked toward the lake, determined that now, tonight, Tom would at last make good on the promise he had made to her eleven years ago._

_A shadow cast in the dying light joined her own, seemingly taking this journey with her, by her side, matching her step for step. She was sure it was an illusion, a delusion of her own mind, but the shadow was a comfort to her, and it made her smile that he had come after all in some way, and that she wouldn't have to go this alone. As her toes touched the water, she let the warming charm she had cast on her body go and the icy fingers of the murky depths reached her ankles, causing her to gasp suddenly and lose her footing in the slippery mud beneath her feet. The shadow figure reached out to grab her, and she could hear the sound of heavy footsteps as the figure approached to rescue her, but it was too late. She fell forward, the splash she had made frightening a school of brightly colored flower-fish away from the edge of the water, surrounding her for a moment, her hair wafting out around her in long dark curls, and all giving her the look of an accidental Ophelia of the Shakespearian tale._

_Lucretia didn't feel any pain when her head struck the rock, nor did she feel the man finally join her in the water, lifting her in strong arms to gently carry her to safety. For a moment she hovered between sleep and wakefulness, eyes fluttering as she took in the hazy form that loomed above her. A pair of dark eyes met her own blue, and a trembling hand reached up to stroke across the smooth skin of her rescuer. "Tom," she muttered softly, before her world slipped into darkness._


	2. Chapter 1

The Beginning of the End

'_Come closer my dear,_  
><em>It is just the beginning of the end..'<em>  
><em>-The Beginning of the End by Him<em>

Late May, 1943

"Tom," she whispered, her breath warm and sweet smelling against the shell of his ear, lips barely ghosting over his skin, "Come and catch me." Laughing at the frown he gave her, she danced out of his grasp and skipped several paces ahead of him only to turn back and issue him a wicked 'come and get me' look, a look that said there was something to be gained the moment he caught her. The dark haired boy kept to his unhurried pace, even stopping once to glance up curiously at a large bird that flew overhead, much to her dismay. As many times as they'd played this game, Lucretia knew that he would never chase her, he never did, not even the first time, not even when she threatened to pout at him forever or to never kiss him again. And Tom knew he didn't have to give chase, that she would stop and wait for him eventually. She always had, and she always would. He also knew that the reward her smile promised for a game well played would be his as well the moment they were settled beneath the branches of 'their' tree. But that didn't stop her laughter, and it didn't stop him from secretly enjoying the effort she always made for him.

"You're never any fun, sourpuss," she chided teasingly a few minutes later as she linked her arm through his again and strolled, side by side with him, to the large oak tree near the lake.

There was no real reason for them to be here today; they weren't going to study or have their lunch in the sunshine as they often did on the weekends. It was just one of those rare afternoons where there were no deadlines pressing, no friends waiting to be entertained, no owls to return. They were simply here to be together. To enjoy the company of one another, to steal kisses and soft touches, to talk about their lives, their plans, what they hoped would be until the world went dark around them. There were several hours yet though, for them to enjoy the sunlight, and the comfort of the others arms.

"Will you miss me next year?"

It was a question Lucretia had often asked. This, her seventh year, was her final at Hogwarts, while Tom still had one year left to go before he would be able to join her in the world outside of the school. A lot could happen in a year; he could lose interest, or find another girl better suited to him than she was, than she had ever been, and as much as she didn't like to even consider the notion, it was one that plagued her often. Truth be told they really weren't all that compatible and were one of the oddest couples at Hogwarts; everything from their dispositions to their backgrounds were vastly different, but somehow, _somehow_, they seemed to fit together so perfectly. It worked for them. And she was in love.

The sunlight flickered over Tom through the tree branches, creating an eerie shadow effect on his face while his slender fingers tangled gently in the curls of the head that lie across his lap. Both were a splendid image of quiet repose, both appeared to be calm and sedate, and perfectly content to simply sit there together and just be. However, appearances were quite deceiving as Lucretia was anything but. Her mind raced, her heart thudded loudly in her ears, she was anxious, deeply troubled. There were so many questions on her mind, so many things she wanted to say, but instead of speaking what was in her heart or on her mind, she remained silent, only voicing what she felt, even after having asked the question on other occasions, was the most important.

After several long moments, Tom finally gave a sigh and looked down into her face. He wasn't one for insecurities; he didn't have any and typically didn't have time for those who did, yet Lucretia was a girl who was nothing, if not unsure. "No, not at all," he deadpanned, brown eyes looking almost apologetic. "I think I may find another girl who isn't quite as loud, and who might let me study from time to time to keep me company after you're gone."

"I never find you funny, Tom. Not ever." Lucretia pulled a face as she kept her eyes focused on his, curling her lips in such a way that eventually her top lip met the tip of her nose. He would never give her an altogether serious answer she was sure, he would never reassure her or give her reason not to worry over where they would be one year from now, but in that moment she decided not to waste what would be their last weekend together in this place with a silly argument over the future.

"You remind me of a goblin when you make that face," Tom chuckled softly, his hand lifting to smooth his fingers over her lips before he inclined his head to kiss her. "I will miss you next year, my Lu. But, it's just one year. One tiny little year and then it will be you and I together, taking this entire bloody world by storm."

She loved him, he knew. And were he capable of such an emotion, she would have taken his heart from him long ago. Lucretia was beautiful and from one of the most, if not _the_most influential families in their world, the noble and ancient house of Black. A courtship with her was something that would help him to achieve at least some of his goals, the plans he had been developing since his first year. He was merely an orphan with not a sickle to his name nor even a decent name to bargain with and a blood status that, even though he swore that his parents were both pure, was still certainly debated. With her, doors to the social circles he wanted to be in would opened, more of their world would know his name, and if he managed to marry her, to be accepted into the Black family fold - no one would ever doubt him publicly again. Unless, of course, they wished to find themselves blacklisted by the Black's. It was a lovely vision he had of their future, one that he was sure could play out precisely that way if he was given half a chance. Everything would be perfect, except he didn't love her. He couldn't.

"Do you love me, Lu?"

Lucretia shielded her eyes with a hand to her forehead, surprised by the question though she tried not to show it. He had never asked her before what she felt for him, had never seemed to care, though she had told him once, and only once, that she did indeed love him. She wasn't sure why he had asked now; perhaps he was feeling a bit of the insecurity that she did, but unlike Tom, Lucretia wanted to reassure him. "For some odd reason, I guess I do love you, Tom Riddle. Against my better judgement, but yes, I do." She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and immediately he turned his head to kiss her palm, and with his final words hoped to change the subject for good.

"And I am very lucky to have you."

He was fond of her, and quite possessive of his Black, but where she felt love and warmth for him, a tenderness that he didn't quite understand and couldn't quite muster, his heart was empty. Cold. There was nothing for anyone there, and as much as he wanted to give her all that he could of himself, there was very little there to give. But he could pretend. He could put on a show that had the entire world, even their closest friends, believing that he loved the woman who lay across his lap. But her? Her he could never fool. He had never been able to fool her; not from the first day he'd met her in the Slytherin common room, and not even when they'd shared their first kiss in the Astronomy Tower. She had known right away that it was him who had opened the chamber earlier that year and that the mudblood had died because of him; she had known that he was doing other things that no sixteen year old boy should have been doing. She had known that loving him would be a challenge in so many ways, and yet she couldn't help herself. Her knowledge and her silence had only managed to endear her to him, something he hadn't foreseen, and her loyalty had bought his in return. They were bound by his secrets and goals and her emotions and adoration, the latter of which were not fully returned. And she Lucretia knew. Somehow, she knew nearly everything.

And for some reason, she stayed.


End file.
